An omen from Hafez
Ghazal 258
A thousand thanks—I have beheld you as my heart would wish,
grown, in candour and pure faith, the confidant of my heart.
The travellers of the Path tread the road of calamity;
what grief has love's companion of the valley or the height?
The Beloved's grief kept hidden outweighs the rival's chatter,
for the breast of spiteful men is no keeper of the secret.
Though your beauty stands beyond all need of another's love,
I am not one to turn my back on this game of loving you.
What shall I tell you of what I glimpse in the fire within?
Ask the tears for the tale—I am no tell-tale of the heart.
What sedition it was the tiring-maid of Fate stirred up,
that made her drunken narcissus darken its glance with kohl!
In thanks that the assembly is lit by the Friend's own light,
if a cruelty reach you, then, like the candle, burn and endure.
The aim is but the play of beauty; else there were no call
for Mahmud's regal glory to court the tress of Ayaz.
The ghazal-singing of Venus wins no advantage at all
in that place where Hafez lifts his voice in song.